The After Party
by William Easley
Summary: After the events of "The Woman with the Cipher Tattoo," things relax with a dance. However, Dipper is beginning to learn that not all mysteries are supernatural. Some come from within the human heart. A short one-shot.


**The After Party**

 _(A Follow-Up to "The Woman with the Cipher Tattoo")_

So after Soos played the last dance at midnight, all the oldsters—those who hadn't already gone home for early bedtime—left for their homes and most of the teens took off for the lake. Pacifica's butler—in the reduced circumstances of the Northwest family, he also doubled as chauffeur—coughed and reminded Miss Pacifica that her father might miss her and they'd better be on their way. Pacifica said goodbye to Dipper, hugged Mabel, and left.

Mabel was having Grenda and Candy in for a sleepover. Dipper said his goodnights, but instead of going up to the attic, he climbed to the roof and sat in Wendy's lawn chair, lying back and gazing up at a sky full of stars.

Wendy came up so quietly that when she asked, "So how did it go, man?" he jumped a little.

"Oh," he said. "I thought you'd gone out to the lake with the others."

"Nah," she said. "Not in the mood."

Dipper got up. "You can have the chair. I'd rather sit here." He settled on the edge, his feet dangling.

"Thanks, dude." The chair creaked as Wendy sat in it. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No, it—it's cool. I danced with Pacifica. We went out for a walk around the Shack. Sat on the log in the bonfire clearing. I asked her if she'd had a good time. She laughed and said—"

* * *

Pacifica squeezed his hand. "I had a really good time. Maybe we could do this again?"

Dipper felt a strange sense of déjà vu. The summer before he and Wendy had sat on a log, just like this. But then—

"Pacifica," he said, "look, I'm flattered. I mean, you're a beautiful girl and you're as brave as anybody I know. Back when the ghost was being a bother and I tried to help, I know how after I was turned into wood you opened the gates and let everybody in and broke the spell. And I know you did that even though your father was telling—ordering you not to do it."

"How do you know all that?" Pacifica asked, kicking at the ground. "You were wood."

"I heard later," he said. "From people who came in to the party. And from—well, from your old friend the ghost."

"You banished him!"

"No I didn't. You gave him closure, which was what he needed. You made him free to go on to—to wherever ghosts go when all their business on earth is done. But he didn't go. He wanted to stay in the forest he loved. He's out there now, somewhere. When we were going to get Mabel and crossing Creepy Hollow, he—he helped me. I was having horrible visions, and all of a sudden there he was in my head. He wanted me to tell you that you're the best of the Northwests. He wanted me to tell you that he wishes you a long and happy life filled with love. But, Pacifica—I can't be the love in your life."

"You hate me."

She had let go of his hand. Dipper took hers. "You know that's not true. I like you a lot, but I'm just too different for you. You know that, don't you?"

"No."

"Okay, let's try it like this: I can date you, but I want you to change. You're going to have to be more like Mabel and Grunkle Stan. You're going to have to loosen up and take things with a laugh. Will you make that change for me?"

"I—I don't think I can."

"I know you can't," Dipper said. "Now think about me. Is there any little thing that might make me more of a real prospect for you?"

"Oh, you'd have to dress better, and get a decent haircut, of course, and it would be nice if you cared about—about—the things that I . . . care . . . about." She sniffled. "I see what you did there."

"Yeah," Dipper said. "We're just too far apart. You deserve somebody who's closer to you and who can make you happy. I know you can make him happy. I guess I'm being a big dope and a dork and whatever else you want to call me—and it hurts me to say it—but we'd both be better off."

She took a long shaky breath and then chuckled a little. "I've broken up with a couple of guys," she said. "I never thought someone would break up with me."

"But we're not breaking up," Dipper said. "We're just understanding each other. I don't hate you. I like you a lot, just as I said. How about you? Do you hate me?"

"No, I can't." She punched his arm. "But I'm mad at you!"

"Ow!" Dipper rubbed the spot. "That's okay. Friends can get mad at friends, but it blows over. Friends?"

"I guess," Pacifica said. "Yes, okay, friends. I do like you. And I'd like Mabel to like me, too."

"That's no big deal," Dipper said. "She already does. So—could the three of us maybe hang out some this summer?"

"I'd like that."

"Me, too." He leaned over. "Just friendly," he said, and lightly kissed her cheek.

"For now."

"All right, for now. Thank you, Pacifica."

"For what?"

"For the dance. For having guts. For making me feel like the world's luckiest guy and the world's biggest dope all at once."

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

—"And then," Dipper said to Wendy, "she told me to shut up. So we walked the rest of the way around the Shack, and about that time Soos was playing the last song."

"How do you feel about it, dude?" Wendy asked.

"Like an insensitive jerk," Dipper confessed.

"Hey, you didn't do bad. You let her down easy."

"Yeah," Dipper said, smiling into the night. "Well, I learned from the best."

Wendy laughed. "Okay, I'm glad you got through that. So about us—I'm still too old for you, man."

"You're sixteen, I'm thirteen."

"Yeah, well, three years is a lot."

"It isn't three years," Dipper said. "I was born in August, and you were born in May. That's two years and three months."

"Two years and four months."

"Two years, three months, and eleven days," Dipper corrected. "Hey, I can do the math. I'm not a Gnome."

Wendy laughed again. "Okay, I give. But, dude, you're not even in high school yet. So here's the deal: You manage to come back here every summer, okay?"

"I'll do my best. I think it'll be easy. Our folks like having summers to themselves. They get to go on trips and stuff."

"Cool. So I solemnly, like, vow not to have any serious boyfriends until this goes one way or the other. How about you?"

"Oh, I won't have any boyfriends, either."

"Dude!" Wendy rolled out of the lawn chair, threw Dipper to the rooftop, and tickled him until he begged her to stop.

"Okay, okay, straight up, now," she said, relenting at last and lying on her side next to him, her head propped on her palm. "Will you promise not to have any serious girlfriends until we get to a spot where we can make a mature judgment on what we got goin'?"

"Wendy," Dipper said, "I couldn't have any serious girlfriends if I tried. I'd always be thinking of you."

"Aw, man!" She playfully kissed the tip of his nose. "Where'd you get that line?"

"Dunno," Dipper said. "It's just the truth, that's all. Mabel thinks I've been taking BS lessons from Grunkle Stan. I think it's just telling you what I feel. And that's not—not easy for me."

"Stick with the truth, man. That'll make you special."

"So—it's cool if you and I hang out this summer?"

"I'd totally destroy you if you didn't want to do that with me. I'd toss you right off this roof."

"And it's okay with you if Mabel and Pacifica and I also sort of hang out now and then?"

"Fine with me, dude. I know if anything changes you'll tell me. We're testing our feelings, remember?"

"You are the coolest person I've ever known," Dipper said.

"Yeah, yeah."

Dipper sighed. "Okay. I'm not going to say it, Wendy, because it's not yet the right time. But you know what I'd like to tell you, right?"

She patted his hand. "Yeah, I know what you'd say, Dipper."

They sat up. In the moonlight he mimed zipping his lip and tossing away the key.

She smiled and zipped hers.

And then she hung the key inside her shirt and close to her heart.


End file.
